Careful. in Phoenix

I am feeling the first tingles of fear. I’m not even sure what I’m afraid of, but the tingle is most certainly present.

Or maybe I’m just having a hint of anxiety because I fucked up my med refill and have been on half doses for 2 days and won’t have a refill for at least another 2 days. And I only have 1 dose left for tomorrow, so.

I’ve decided that I’m melancholy. Those first tingles of fear, that’s just anxiety, I’m pretty sure. Because the meds are all off, I’m having a bit of anxiety, which makes everything else really difficult to deal with. I get incredibly self-conscious and start picking myself apart. Then the OCD kicks in, I find one little, annoying part of myself, and then I pick it apart to the point that it feels like an open wound and all I want to do is cry and pull my hair out and maybe get drunk. The self-destructive beast within is cocooned in my anxiety and so, when the Buspar cocoon around the anxiety starts to crumble apart, the anxiety is set free and the self-destruction follows, gleefully.

No.

I mean, yes. The anxiety shit is a thing.

I mean, no, it’s not just the anxiety or the meds. It’s something else causing that tingle of something unpleasant. The tingle of fear, of worry, of self-doubt and insecurity. That’s another thing altogether. That’s not just the anxiety because I’ve been feeling the tiniest hint of a tingle for several days. That’s something else. Probably something I really don’t want to face, which is why it’s just a tingle… so far.

I have to take caution so as not to trick myself. I have to be very, very careful not to let parts of myself get out of control.

Not because I want to. I have to.

I am having some very hard realizations.

Those realizations are causing emotions I would just rather not feel, thank you very much. I need to draw a line with those emotions, build a wall around them, something.

I was so enjoying my new life, the immense feeling of freedom. Freedom from every constraint ever put on me, either by myself or by someone else. Freedom to be myself and love myself for the simple fact of being myself, of allowing myself to just be as I am and not as I think someone else would want to see me.

The ghost of a thought in my mind: Are you really as you are? Are you really not being as you think someone would want someone else to see you?

I’ve spent my life not knowing who I was because I was always someone different, constantly shifting my personality and attitude to suit someone else. The problem I have now is that I feel like I’ve gotten so far from who I was, if I was ever really any one person at all, that I don’t remember who that might have been, and I certainly don’t know who I am now. l know things about myself. Factoids. But I don’t know who I am.

I think I need some time to re-evaluate my boundaries. I need to re-evaluate previous evaluations of myself, my feelings, what I’m okay with, and what I’m not okay with. I need a better understanding of where my emotions are and where I want them to be and then how to get them there. I need to rein myself in. If I don’t maintain control, I will spiral, meds or no meds. I am feeling an overwhelming need to protect myself and I don’t know why.

I mean. I guess I know why.

Strong emotion is terrifying for me, always has been, because it feels like losing control. Losing control is not a thing I can afford to do. I am all out of emotional currency on that front.

I really don’t like this melancholy shit.

Fuck.

Last updated May 11, 2019